


Rags to Drama

by Cosplayplush



Category: Skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 12:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16810804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosplayplush/pseuds/Cosplayplush
Summary: It was all over a bit of food in the little farmers house. Then it was precious treasure, and then more and more till it was intolerable anymore. From the son of a farmer to the villain of his generation. It's not what he wanted, how'd it end up like this?





	Rags to Drama

Rag to Drama

My father once told me, 'A man is only worth as much as he can provide for his family and self'. His father had told him and that and so and so forth. What a crock of shit that statement is. Let me tell you why.

I was young. A boy of sixteen, and my whole life as a farmer ahead of me. My name was Jeffery, but thanks to an unhappy turn of events, that would soon change. I was a lanky boy, scrawny but able enough to help my father till the fields and look after our meager stock of animals. It was a good life for the most part. We had lost my mother in a bout of sickness that came through some winters ago. I took comfort knowing she wasn't suffering any longer than she had to. Mine own suffering was just delayed.

A farmers life isn't an easy task. You have your hard days work and little rest at night before you had to start all over again. It was tedious work, but the results always brought a smile to my father's face. In turn, I was happy. We worked day in and day out, and all we asked of the gods was to be left alone to our happy lives. You know, the gods are said to have a sense of humor, but I really don't see it. I would have found, 'man walks into a bar...' infinitely more funny than what they had in store for me.

After our last winter, just as the snows began to melt, death came through our doorway again. This time he came in the form of a young adventurer. My father was slain in defense of our home and few possessions. It wasn't entirely uncommon, I had heard tales from traveling merchants of great warriors coming through townships. Sometimes they would slay a person whom turned out to be a criminal. Occasionally they were innocent and it turned out the adventurer was just in a foul mood. I didn't see much sense in that either.

In my father's case, it was a wheel of cheese. My father was killed for seeing a man come into our home to steal cheese. None of it made a lick of sense to me. Why? It was just cheese, my father could make more. It wasn't like it was rare or expensive like the towns rich had in their larders. I can't tell you the exact events that led up my father's death. I simply had come in from feeding the pigs and found my father dead. Our pantry empty and armored boot prints in my fathers blood. A sword still wobbling in his gut.

The gods had there priorities off a bit that day. A man's life for a moldy block of cheese. What was I to do? Go outside, turn my face to sky and demand a retrial for this transgression? Lot of good that did old George our town drunk. He yelled at the sky all the time and all he got was unsteady legs and several good bruises from falling over. I resolved myself to carry on with my life. I couldn't recall any merchant stories about adventurers returning to strike twice. I told myself I wouldn't be the first, apparently I was wrong.

A man in leather armor and a ridiculous looking broken helmet came into the house a season afterward. He said nothing to me as he dashed about my home, looking through cabinets and boxes. I asked him several times and in various ways for him to leave. I think the blok must have been deaf or daft because he said nothing and didn't leave. When the man put a hand to my mother's memory chest, I lost my calm.

"You will not have my treasure!" I bellowed in a sudden rage.

The adventurer stopped and looked at me. "Say's who?"

"My name is J-Jeff-ery and you will be gone from this place at once." I tripped over my own name. I felt as stupid as this man was rude.

"'Hellfree', what kind of stupid name is that?" The adventurer laughed and came up to push me over the back of my chair.

He took all of my bread and just about anything shiny.

There it was. Nearly killed over a couple things of bread. These men were no adventures of old lore. They were thieves. I steeled myself and set out to become strong enough to defend my family home and property. I spent that fall and winter training everyday, spending little time sleeping or eating. I had managed to keep my farm running along side my exercise. I also had decided that anything I owned of value would be easier to keep guarded if I kept it locked in a secret box behind a shelf. When spring came again, I was ready.

As the metal fist slammed into my face, sending me into unconsciousness, I knew I wasn't ready. Absurd! I had trained! I was now the strongest man in our entire village. Toned my physical body to the height of perfection and yet still I was robbed and beaten up! The next morning I awoke with two things. A raging headache and a mighty need to see the town guard.

The head of the guard was a portly man of state. The way he fit into his clothes looked as if someone had squeezed him into each article. His armor cutting off even more of his circulation and a helmet he kept sitting atop his head rather then wearing as he should. He had made a reputation as a buy-able guard and made plenty of money tipping thieves to caravans, merchants and unguarded houses. As much as I loathed the man for his complete and utter lack of a moral compass, he at least had knowledge I needed.

I approached him at the town market. "Harvey, I need your help."

The gelatinous man turned toward me. "Oy eh, Jeffery. You'a come down from that high horse of yers to come talk to a morally compromised commoner?"

"What?" I hardly every understood a word this mass of scum. "Neve mind that. Harvey, each season I'm getting raided by thieves in the spring."

Harvey held up a clubbed hand, fingers wiggling like sausages. "Oy boy. You want my 'elp to crack their skulls open, it'll cost you."

I frantically waved the notion away. "No, Harvey. What do I do to stop them?"

"Gimmie that hat o' yours and I'll tell ya'." Harvey smiled. I nearly gagged, his teeth were rotting.

I snatched the hat off and shoved it to his chest. 'Please, gods, don't let him touch me'. "Now, tell me."

"Right." Harvey placed the hat on his head. It looked horrid. "'Ear's whatcha wanna do. Traps. Go and dig ya'self couple pits where they keep comin' at'cha. Put some sharp sticks and rocks in the 'ottom and that'll solve all yer problems."

Before I could demand he explain more, Harvey painfully waddled away. I couldn't help but wonder if his black heart held tar in it or blood. The information hadn't sounded too insane. Traps, pitfalls. With the last coin I had I purchased a new shovel and some twine and headed back to my farm. I was desperate and running out of patience.

A pig gate was open. I rushed over to it and counted the pigs inside. One, two . . . five. Five. Someone came and stole a pig from me! Twice in one season I've been robbed! Now I was livid. I just wanted to be left alone to do my families work, find a wife and have some children to pass the farm to. And die peacefully in my sleep. But could I? At this rate, I was lucky to consider eating at all through the next winter. Pits Harvey said. I'll dig the greatest pit traps ever conceived.

And that's what I did. I built traps. And they worked! Glory be! Spring came back around and I found bones and equipment from a couple adventurers in one pit and another in a extra pit. I breath deep the rewards of hard work and brilliant planning. The items I found that were worth anything I took from the pits and locked them away in my hidden box. 

I returned to a normal life and felt more satisfied than I had ever been. Alas, as you can see, my tale doesn't end here and as I recall the events before I put quill to parchment, I find myself shuddering. The madness that ensued because one adventurer didn't die in my pits. One dull witted fiend and my whole life was turned upside down. And I was no fresh prince to begin with.

Three full winters had come and gone since my bread had been stolen. Life was good. Crops were strong, the cattle producing milk and young. I even had things I could sell should I feel the need to enjoy some finer things in life. I was pushing a cart up the back hill when I saw sticks jutting up out of the ground. Several of them. 

I left my cart and went to see what in the god's minds was happening. My front door open and a shiny gauntlet lay in the grass next to it. I looked back to the sticks. My pit traps had been set off but no bodies inside. Someone came prepared! I rushed inside and found my box empty. Simply smashed to bits. I think I assaulted my kitchen the most in my rage. There went my savings, my traps no longer worked and I was back at the beginning of my troubles.

That winter I built a wall.

Spring came with ladders.

I built a basement.

Spring brought axes.

I bought a guard dog.

Spring gave him mutton.

I built guard towers and hired some villagers.

Spring slit their throats.

At the end of it all, I have enchanted armor and sword I bought off a merchant. Multidimensional pets lurking in all three levels of my basements and grounds. Hired thugs to patrol the walls and feed the pets. A wall that would require siege towers to climb over. Hired a group of mercenaries to guard me that I had to personally train since they were not up to my standards. They now hire and train their own people. I have had to make a barracks for them to live in. I had to buy the town market to get better items to help guard my property. Bought my neighbors homes and land so I could better fortify them as they asked me to do.

I have lost my parent and my peace and quiet. I have no crops to tend, no pigs to feed and cattle to milk. No chores to do. No trips to the market to sell my goods. No relaxing evening basking in the fruits of my labor.

Just this morning I received a letter from a neighboring King to form an allegiance to protect each other in times of strife. With that letter came a chest of gold, a princess and a annoying realization.

These adventurers will never leave me alone now. My men don't ever say my name correctly. They all call me 'Hellfree' no matter how many times I correct them. This enchanted helmet, which I can't seem to take off, muddles my voice into this raspy wicked sound. I have become accustomed to answering to the new name. The princess is constantly trying to escape, saying 'my true love will save me from your wicked tyranny'. I am not a tyrant. I just wanted to be Jeffery, a simple farmer. That was what I was born into, and what I was meant to do. But thanks to my deafening and ceaseless desire to be left alone in my life, I have become Hellfree, the Disgruntled. Slayer of thousands of adventurers. My life in ruins.

'A man is only worth as much as he can provide for his family and self'. What a crock of shit.


End file.
